


Darkness for a Heart

by overthemoon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:11:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overthemoon/pseuds/overthemoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock always thought if demons existed, they would want him, not John, who is good and everything and a so much better person than Sherlock can ever be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkness for a Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Airynothing for the beta! Meep, tenses are embarrassing.  
> Based on [this gifset.](http://daftwithoneshoe.tumblr.com/post/60034742439)  
> [Tumblr Version. Please reblog if you like it!](http://overthemoonwriting.tumblr.com/post/62350305466/daftwithoneshoe-demon-john-53-darkness-the)

The imposter smiles with John’s face. Sherlock slides on his consulting detective mask. John’s wrinkles and frownlines don’t crinkle the same. John’s body pauses half a second too long when turning the head to speak. 

Sherlock forces himself to smile back so he won’t have to count and see and observe the absent tics of John’s hand, the way the shirt remains as if fresh pressed after two days, and how John isn’t smiling at him anymore.

(He always knew it was a curse; being able to see what others never observed was never a blessing. There was no need for the world to take him so literally.)

“I’ve figured out why you’re so fond of John,” the imposter says. Sherlock tightens his grip on armrest. Sherlock’s absent heart doesn’t palpitatefor decapitations or seared ashen handprints, but John’s absent eyes, the imposter’s eyes, sear Sherlock with forgotten fear.

Sherlock smirks. “This should be good,” he says. 

“You’re like me,” John’s voice says. “You belong to the darkness. John gives you hope that you can someday learn to live in the light.” Sherlock stiffens. 

“Spoiler alert: You can’t.” The imposter shrugs. John’s body leans backwards in the chair and relaxes, one hand curled around an empty mug.

Sherlock says, “You’ve seen this before.” He peels his cold hands off the armrests and steeples them. “Why didn’t you posses me then? If I’m as dark as you.” No point in correcting a mere sliver of truth; John is more than hope; John is everything and this demon has John.

“Darker,” the imposter says. John’s body sips from the empty mug and sighs. “Pretty impressive, for a human.”

“I will find a way to get John back and I will ensure that it will be as painless as possible if you cooperate,” Sherlock says. The imposter stares at Sherlock with black pits and casually tosses the mug into the kitchen. Something glass shatters; neither of them flinch. “People won’t believe you’re John, not for a moment.”

John’s body stands up from the desk and comfortably strides over to settle in John’s armchair. “I don’t need them to,” John’s voice says. John’s face smiles at Sherlock and Sherlock thinks about the letter opener within arm’s reach on the desk. How easy it would be to reach over and take three steps to peel the warped warmth and comfort away to reveal the imposter’s black soul inside?

“Bit not good,” John’s voice chuckles. Fingers wave; the knife vanishes. “He’s so tidy, isn’t he.”

“You’ve had your fun now. Get out of my flatmate.” Sherlock stands. “Either offer me - us - a deal, or get out.”

The imposter snaps his fingers. The knife reappears in John’s left hand. “Lovely tendons, these,” John’s voice says as the right hand caresses John’s wrist. John’s spine straightens as the body sit upright. “Cohabitation would be nice, if you had the spare room.”

“What?”

John’s body stands up. “Up there,” the imposter says, pointing at Sherlock’s head. “You’re not boring, at least.” Sherlock takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “No? Pity.” The knife hovers over John’s wrist. “I’m sure he’ll like his goodbye present.”

“No,” Sherlock blurts. “We can, we can renegotiate. I can delete things.” Sherlock lurches across the room to grab John’s hands. John’s hands feel soft and calloused and gentle, still. In spite of.

The demon humms. “Six months,” John’s voice says. “Out of every year. Unless John makes me a better offer.”

“He won’t.”

“No telling.”

“He wouldn’t notice,” Sherlock says bitterly.

The demon takes advantage of John’s warm grin and shakes Sherlock’s left hand. “Deal.” John’s eyes close and reopen. Sherlock reels in shock at the concerned blue beaming right at him.

“Sherlock?” John says warily. “What are you doing?” Sherlock opens his mouth, closes it. John looks around and spots the mess in the kitchen. “Sherlock!” John yanks his hand out of Sherlock’s grip and walks towards the kitchen. “What happened?”

Sherlock picks up the violin and began to play. “Nothing,” Sherlock says.

John stomps upstairs to get the broom and dustpan. Have fun, the demon whispers. Catch you later.

Sherlock stares upstairs and increases the volume. “No, you won’t,” he mutters.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/Kudos are the best! Concrit is always welcome.


End file.
